


Almost

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Based on this prompt I was given: Mulder find a draft of Scully's resignation letter, post-One Son.





	1. Chapter 1

Mulder was usually the first in the office, especially on a Monday morning, but the lights were already on when he walked in and there was a cup of coffee with Scully’s name and lipstick on it sitting on the little table that they’d long ago come to the silent agreement on was her area of the room.  Her satchel was tucked up against the side of her chair, but she was nowhere to be found. He assumed she had stepped out to use the ladies room or gone up to the vending machines for a snack since he didn’t see the white paper bag holding her breakfast bagel or even the pink box of donuts she occasionally treated them to when she was feeling celebratory.  He supposed after the week they’d had, there wasn’t much to celebrate and donuts would be a pretty far fetched possibility.

 

Going about his usual routine, Mulder draped his overcoat on the coat rack next to Scully’s, sat down at his desk, and flipped on his computer.  He checked his email and voice messages, which took at least fifteen minutes, but Scully had not yet returned. He called her cell phone and frowned when a muffled ring could be heard coming from her satchel.  Sometimes, not being able to reach his partner gave him a few fleeting moments of panic and his first thoughts upon rising from his chair were not to touch anything in case it was a crime scene.

 

Don’t be stupid, he told himself, crouching next to her chair and looking things over for anything unusual.  There were no signs of a struggle. He let his hand hover near her coffee cup and he could still feel heat radiating off of it, so it seemed logical that he’d just missed her, wherever she’d gone.  Maybe she wasn’t feeling well or maybe she’d run into someone in the hall that she wanted to catch up with, though that seemed unlikely. Perhaps she’d gone to get donuts or bagels after all and there was a line at the bakery.  

 

Knowing he shouldn’t, but doing it anyway, Mulder opened the satchel next to her chair and looked inside.  He saw the antenna of her phone poking up from inside and he pulled it out. The missed call from the office showed on the display.  Her wallet was just under the phone, which blew his theory on picking up some pastries unless she’d only walked out with some cash and her ID.  It should’ve been blown by the very fact she’d left her jacket behind, but he was busy trying not to be alarmed.

 

Fear was not a very good excuse, but it was the reason he did what he did next, pulling out the papers from inside the back pocket of the satchels to look for a clue to her whereabouts.  The top paper was printed on thick paper and addressed to Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

 

_ Sir - _

 

_ Please accept this letter of resignation from the X-Files Division and a formal request for reassignment.  Though I am passionate and dedicated to my current assignment, in light of recent events, I feel that it would be in the best interests of the bureau, Agent Mulder, and myself, to tender my resignation from this division and seek other opportunities.  I would be willing to accept a transfer out of state if necessary. _

 

_ I do not make this request easily or rashly and have given this much consideration.  As I’m sure you are aware, the strongest partnerships are based heavily on trust, and once those bonds are broken, it’s difficult to return to what once was.  Over the course of our last investigation, the damage done to the partnership between myself and Agent Mulder is, in my opinion, irreparable. I once believed that ours was a partnership that was impenetrable.  I was wrong. The X-Files unit deserves better. _

 

_ I ask that you do not take the above as an indictment against Agent Mulder in any way.  His singular devotion to the cases he is assigned to exceeds every other agent at the bureau, myself included.  I am confident that you will not find any issues with finding a new partner for him, in fact I can name an agent more suitable for the position than I ever was, but I will give Agent Mulder the courtesy of making that request himself. _

 

Her signature ended the letter, standing out boldly from the typewritten text in larger, looping cursive in blue ink.  Mulder felt like his heart had stopped. His knees began to shake. He felt like he might vomit.

 

“Shit,” he whispered, staring at the paper until his vision blurred.  It was dated three days prior, the same night they were admitted and released from quarantine.  A different kind of panic took over.

 

Quickly, Mulder stuffed the papers back into the pocket of the satchel he found them in.  Just in time too, because as soon as he closed the flap, he heard the elevator down the hall ding.  He jumped up and hustled back to his desk, noticing too late that her satchel had fallen over onto its side as he sat down.  He tried not to look guilty even as he nervously smoothed his tie down his chest as Scully neared, every click of her heels sounding loud and ominous.

 

“Oh hey, Scully,” he said, and then shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

 

“Good morning,” she answered.  He watched her carefully, noticing how slowly she seemed to move and that she didn’t look at him when she walked in.  He followed her gaze to the fallen satchel and smoothed his tie again.

 

“I uh, I tried calling you,” he said.  “You left your phone here and it rang.”  He tried not to wince at how lame he sounded.

 

“I was in Skinner’s office,” she said, bending to right her bag.

 

“Oh?”  Now he knew he was going to throw up.  He held his breath, waiting for her to tell him she was leaving.  He needed time to prepare his arguments, time that she obviously wasn’t going to give him, but she didn’t say anything.  She simply sat down at her desk and opened her laptop.

 

An interminable silence followed.  Mulder stared at the back of Scully’s head as she scrolled through email and sipped her coffee.  He felt like she was actively ignoring him and it felt awful. The room felt unbearably hot and he loosened his tie.  There was an apology on the tip of his tongue, but it got stuck there. He really did want to tell her how sorry he was and what a horse’s ass he’d been, but he wasn’t sure it would help.  

 

Maybe Scully leaving would be the best thing for both of them.  She could have a life again, the one she should have had before so much was taken away from her because of his quest for the truth.  He once told her she should get as far away from him as possible, but she stayed. He’d been relieved and grateful that she chose to remain by his side, but deep down he knew it was selfish of him.  Maybe it was time for him to man up and try to get along without her even though it felt like she was the one thing in his life he couldn’t do without. If she was hellbent on leaving, it needed to be a clean break, one with no hard feelings or unresolved anger.  He owed her an apology and he needed to do it now.

 

“Scully, I…”

 

“Did you read this email from Arthur Dales?” she asked.

 

“What?”   
  


“He wants you to check a news article about some missing people.”

 

“I hadn’t...no, I didn’t see it.”

 

Scully tipped her head back as she drank the rest of her coffee and then lifted the sleeve of her blazer to check her watch.  She closed her laptop and tossed the paper cup in the trash.

 

“I need to head up to the labs for some preliminary forensic IDs on the El Rico massacre,” she said, reaching down and lifting her satchel up to place it on her lap.  “I was told they’d be done by nine.”

 

“Oh.  Okay.”

 

Scully opened her bag and rifled through the papers in the back pocket.  He watched her fingers dance over pages that were half-pulled from the packet and then selected one and pulled it out.  It was not the resignation letter, or maybe it was another copy. Maybe all the papers were just copies of the same letter and she intended to post one on every announcement board on every floor so the whole bureau would know she’d finally kicked Spooky Mulder to the curb.

 

“I’m not expecting much,” Scully said, folding the paper in her hand and rising up from her chair. “But, if there are any positive IDs...if we find the smoking man or...well, I’ll call you.”

 

“You’ll be back down?” Mulder asked, eying the satchel she’d left leaning against the leg of her chair.

 

“It won’t take long.  Enough time to find out what Arthur Dales wants from us and where you’ll be dragging me off to, I’m sure.”

 

“What was your meeting with Skinner about?”

 

“I didn’t have a meeting with Skinner.”

 

Mulder cocked his head and pursed his lips.  She finally turned towards him and raised one brow at his quizzical expression.  “You said you were in his office,” he said. “So…”

 

Scully paused and the tips of her nails came to rest on the edge of Mulder’s desk.  “I submitted something to him in error,” she said. “I needed to retrieve it.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“I’ll be back.”

 

“Scully, wait.”

 

Mulder stood and came around to the front of his desk where Scully was standing. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at him with a passive gaze, betraying nothing.  She’d always had the best poker face when she wanted to. His hand moved up to touch her cheek before he really thought about it and then pulled back at the last second and briefly cupped her elbow instead.

 

“I just want to tell you I’m sorry,” he said. 

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I owe you about six years of apologies.”

 

“I mean, what are you apologizing for, specifically?”

 

He let out a nervous chuckle and then swallowed.  “I’m not getting away that easily, am I?”

 

“You don’t owe me six years of apologies, Mulder, but you do owe me one.”

 

“For not trusting you and...I should’ve…”

 

Scully lifted her brow as he started to stammer and shook her head slightly.  She lowered her gaze away from Mulder and ran the fold of the paper in her hand between her thumb and index for a few moments before she turned to leave.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her go, but she paused in the doorway, her back to him. She turned her head just enough to glance back over her shoulder.

 

“This is my quest too,” she said.  “It doesn’t belong to you alone.”

 

“I realize that.”

 

“Do you?”  Her brow lifted once more and then she was gone.

 

Mulder gazed at the empty doorway for some time, long after the tap of her heels faded and the elevator dinged to take her away.  He was spared once again by the grace of Scully’s change of heart, but he knew if he didn’t start to change things, his days would be numbered and he would lose her.

 

“You are one selfish sonofabitch,” he whispered to himself.

 

The End


	2. The Sword of Damocles

Being attacked by a sea monster wasn’t really a great way to start off a week, but for Mulder, it wasn’t the worst thing to have happened.  The uncomfortable itch associated with the inflamed impressions of a noose of tentacles around his neck had nothing on the emotional gut punch of finding Scully’s resignation letter in her satchel just before they left for Florida.  He tried not to think about it, and a sea monster plus a hurricane plus an irate pregnant woman were great distractions, but that letter never left his mind. It loomed over him like a dark cloud, like the proverbial other shoe about to drop, like the sword of Damocles threatening to end everything.  It didn’t feel like an ‘if’ anymore, it felt like a ‘when.’

 

Back in the office, Mulder watched Scully like a hawk, and though he could tell it was getting on her nerves, he couldn’t stop.  He looked for opportunities to try to bring up the letter, but he didn’t know how to do it without also giving himself away. He’d been snooping through her satchel, and though he felt it was justified, he also knew if she had a shred of trust left in him, it was tenuous at best, and he couldn’t risk betraying it, even if he felt like he was losing his damn mind.

 

“Stop scratching,” Scully ordered without even looking up from her computer.

 

“What do you have eyes in the back of your head?” Mulder asked, tugging at the gauze around his neck to get some relief.  “I’m not.”

 

“I can see you in my monitor.”

 

He paused, two fingers deep into the gauze wrap, and looked for the reflection of her glasses on her computer screen.  Her eyes bounced up to his and then back on her report. He dropped his hand down to his desk and picked up a pencil to tap his blotter with the eraser end.

 

“I think I’m going to cut out early,” he said.

 

“Make sure you use the anti-itch cream the hospital gave you.  Have a nice weekend.”

 

Mulder stopped tapping his pencil and frowned.  So that’s how things were going to be now? Normally, Scully was more solicitous when he had an injury, wanting to check that it was healing properly before she sent him on his way.  Sometimes she even made house calls if she felt they were warranted. 

 

Feeling slighted, he made a dramatic production of getting ready to leave.  He closed down every program on his computer with a forcible click of his mouse and then subtly turned the volume up all the way so that the shut down chime blasted out of the speakers.  He saw Scully’s shoulders jump and he could swear she shot him a nasty glare in the reflection off the monitor. He straightened his files, something he’d never done before, by shuffling them together and then loudly bouncing them off the desk into a straight pile.  Finally, he pulled his jacket on with a sigh and kicked his chair into the space under his desk.

 

“Okay,” he said.  “I’m off.”

 

“Mulder?” she asked, scribbling notes in a red pen on notepad.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“The budget meeting is on Monday.  Don’t forget to turn in the receipts for the expense report.”

 

“I thought you had them.”

 

“Not the hotel and the car.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Just bring them in on Monday.”

 

“If I can find them.”  

 

He waited for her to sigh, to drop her pen, to call him an irresponsible moron who can’t hold onto a receipt, but she didn’t look up.  Dejected, he walked out of the office and punched the call button for the elevator a little too hard. He didn’t feel like going home right away, more like wallowing in his misery, so he headed for the lobby and not the parking garage.  He hadn’t been to The Headless Woman in awhile and if any week called for a few drinks, this week did.

 

He was two beers and one shot in when Scully walked in, laughing, a strange man behind her with his hand on her shoulder.  Mulder slunk down in his booth and watched them split off from each other, Scully heading towards the tables and the man heading towards the bar.  From his position, Mulder could hear him order a Shiner Bock and a Stella Artois. He knew the Shiner was Scully’s drink, and apparently so did the stranger.  As if his day couldn’t get any worse, now he had to watch his partner on a date with some stocky He-Man who looked like he was a star wrestler in high school. This sandy-haired jockstrap was so not who he imagined was Scully’s type at all.

 

Mulder sulked into his beer.  Every so often he would be blindsided by a reminder that Scully had a life separate from him, as impossible as it was for him to imagine, which in turn reminded him that she didn’t have the life she deserved.  It wasn’t fair how much he needed her; needed her science and her rationality and her criticism and her tethering of him when he went too far. He needed her like air, but she didn’t need him at all and he didn’t have anything to offer in return except grief.  If he were a better man, he’d submit her resignation himself, but he’s not a better man. He’s a needy, selfish bastard who’d let his best friend waste the best years of her life to spare himself the heartache.

 

Feeling himself begin to tear up, Mulder muttered a curse under his breath and then downed the rest of his beer in one gulp.  He wiped his eyes against his shoulders, one at a time, and then grabbed his suit jacket from the hook next to his booth and shrugged it on.  He settled his tab at the bar as discreetly as possible, keeping his head low to avoid being noticed. On his way out though, he couldn’t resist taking a glance in Scully’s direction and he thought he saw her meet his eye, but she turned to her companion and he pushed through the door without another look back.

 

He was half-way down the block when he heard her calling and he stopped, cringing a little before he turned around.  She was hugging herself and rubbing her hands up and down her arms. It was cold out and she hadn’t stopped to put her jacket on before chasing him out the door.  He wanted to offer her his jacket, but he curled his hands into fists in his pockets and stared at her instead.

 

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

 

“Needed to unwind,” he answered.  “Now, I’m heading home.”

 

“Come back inside.”  She threw a glance over her shoulder.  “I want you to meet Charlie.”

 

“Charlie?  Your brother?”

 

“He called right after you left.  He’s passing through town and has a flight to Thailand in a few hours, but thought we could meet for a drink.”

 

“Oh.”  Mulder felt relieved to find out that the beefy hulk inside was Scully’s brother, which didn’t make much sense to him.  Sure, he was jealous, but only because she was spending time with someone else that wasn’t him. That’s all it was. Jealous of her time.

 

“It’s cold.  Come on.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“But-”

 

“Have a good night.”  He turned to leave, but didn’t walk away.

 

“Mulder?”

 

He could take his moody ass back inside and have a stilted and awkward conversation with another Scully brother that was bound to hate him.  Or, he could tell her right then and there that he knew about the letter. He could tell her she should go, walk away from him while she still could; be a doctor, a sister, a daughter, a...lover.  Or, he could say nothing and push her away with silence, which is what he did.

 

“Mulder!  Hey!”

 

“I can’t, Scully,” he whispered into the cold air.  “I can’t.”

 

It wasn’t a matter of if, it was when.

 

The End


	3. An Inconvenient Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it continues with a request to insert this story into an AU where Tithonus happens just AFTER the events of Two Fathers/One Son.

Mulder had never been out of the office faster than when he got the call that Scully had been shot.  Not trusting himself to deal with afternoon traffic, he raced to the train station and caught the first Amtrak up to New York City that happened to leave ten minutes after he arrived.  It was the quickest option available at three hours, but if he could’ve sprouted wings and flown there, he would have.

 

For most of the journey, he impatiently pounded his knuckles into his knee and focused on the trees and the towns passing by in a blur.  He tried to keep the anxious mantra of ‘my fault, all my fault,’ out of his head to no avail. Because it was his fault. If he hadn’t been such a horse’s ass, Scully would never have even considered resigning from the x-files.  And if she hadn’t considered resigning, she therefore probably wouldn’t have even considered taking this assignment without him. So, the reality of it was, he was the one that put her in the line of fire even if Kersh was the one that sent her to New York.

 

In fact, they’d fought about it before she left.  Still sore from finding her resignation letter a few weeks prior, he’d accused her of trying to ditch him and the files.  She’d done that thing she does sometimes when she’s too mad at him in the moment to speak to him, so she’d narrowed her eyes and stared directly at him with such disgust while shrugging on her coat that he had to turn his back on her.  She didn’t even say goodbye. He’d never bear it if that argument was the last time he’d speak to her.

 

She was still in surgery when Mulder got to the hospital and he parked himself in a plastic chair in front of the nurse’s station to wait for news.  When he couldn’t sit still any longer, he paced. When he couldn’t pace any longer, he harassed the nurses for information. When the nurses glared at him for being a pain in the ass, he sat back down and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.  A young nurse with cafe au lait skin and the hint of a latin accent seemed to take pity on him and left the station to approach him.

 

“Sir?” she asked.

 

Mulder took a glance at her nametag as he perked up.  “Yes?”

 

“Are you able to fill out this form for patient information?”

 

“Oh.”  He took the clipboard she offered and perused it.  He’d had Scully’s DOB, SSN, and insurance card number memorized for quite some time.  He nodded to the nurse and took the pen from the clip to start filling out the form and check the appropriate boxes.

 

The medical history portion had always made him cringe a little.  He hated ticking the little box that said ‘Cancer’ and then explaining the type and treatment.  The only thing he hated more was entering ‘0’ for number of children. There were no boxes to explain Emily in Scully’s medical history.

 

When he finished grimacing his way through the paperwork, he signed the bottom and waited until he spotted Marisol, the nurse who gave him the forms, and then he got up to give them to her.  She flipped through the sheets quickly, with a practiced eye, and nodded her thanks.

 

“Oh,” she said, tapping her finger by his signature.  “What is your relationship to the patient?”

 

Mulder hesitated.  He’d purposefully left those boxes unchecked.  The only options were Self, Spouse, or Caregiver.  “Um,” he said. “She’s my partner.”

 

Marisol nodded and ticked the ‘Spouse’ box.  He held his breath for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to correct her, but he didn’t.

 

“Can you tell me anything?” he asked.  “It’s been at least seven hours and I...no one’s told me anything other than she’s still in surgery.”

 

“As soon as I find out, I’ll let you know.”

 

Two hours later, Mulder was finally given the news that Scully had made it out of surgery and was in recovery.  He was also told he wouldn’t be able to see her until the next day. He agonized about leaving, fully prepared to spend the night in the uncomfortable plastic chair he’d been waiting in, but he was essentially ordered away by the no nonsense group of nurses that had been putting up with him all day.  So, he walked outside, found a hotel on the next block over, and booked a room for the night.

 

Visiting hours started at 8am, so Mulder was back to the hospital at 7, haunting the nurse’s station once again.  He was able to get the name of Scully’s doctor out of them this time and he roamed the halls in search of him.

 

It was already after 8 when Mulder made his way to Scully’s room.  There was another man on his way out and it took Mulder about three seconds to realize it was Agent Ritter.  The younger agent appeared to be going to try to shake Mulder’s hand for a moment, but Mulder put his hands in his pockets as he stared at him.

 

“You’re a lucky man,” Mulder said to him.

 

Agent Ritter opened his mouth, hesitated, and then put his head down and walked away.  Mulder watched him slink around the corner and then he pushed open Scully’s door. She was sitting up in the bed, her head turned towards the window.  He lingered in the doorway until she looked at him and gave him a thin smile. He smiled back and shuffled towards her, his hand outstretched to take hers.

 

Their fingers came together and their thumbs touched.  He was surprised by how warm her hand was. He circled her thumb with his in a lazy caress.  She stared at their joined hands with tired eyes.

 

“I talked to your doctor,” he said.  “He says you’re doing great. Making the fastest recovery he’s ever seen.”

 

“Fellig?”

 

“Dead.”

 

Her hand went limp in his and her fingers slipped free.  She turned her gaze to the window again and he sat down beside her.

 

“Scully, I want to tell you that I-”

 

“One of the nurses told me that my husband had been annoying all the nurses with his relentless pacing and questions yesterday,” she interrupted.

 

“Well, you know me, I-”

 

“You filled out my intake sheet.

 

“I did, but-”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Mulder blinked.  He’d been expecting some sort of verbal assault.  “You’re...welcome…”

 

Scully sighed and looked down at her hands as she twisted the bedsheets at her lap.  “If you’re here to say ‘I told you so,’ you-”

 

“Not in a million years, Scully.”  He put his hand over hers to still her nervous fingers.  “If leaving the x-files is what you want...I’ll...I’ll find a way to help you do that.”

 

“I don’t want to leave the x-files, Mulder.  I don’t know how that idea got into your head, but you seem intent on-”

 

“Because I saw your letter.”

 

“What letter?”

 

“The one you were going to send to Skinner.  Your transfer request.”

 

Scully pressed her lips together so tightly that they turned white.  She turned to the window again and her nostrils flared with three, deep breaths.  “It’s not the files I wanted to walk away from,” she said.

 

Mulder swallowed back the sudden urge to vomit.  He took his hand off of Scully’s. He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t have to say anything.  The door opened just then and the nice nurse that helped him yesterday came in.

 

“You see,” she said.  “Your patience was rewarded.  Your wife is doing just fine and you can relax now.”

 

Mulder waited for Scully to correct the presumption, as usual, but she didn’t.  “Or my impatience,” he quipped mildly and slid off the bed. “I’ll go ahead and…”

 

“You’re fine,” Marisol said, expertly working around Mulder to attach a blood pressure cuff to Scully’s arm.  “Just going to record some vitals. I’ll only be a minute.”

 

Feeling a bit awkward, Mulder went to the window and stood with his back to the room.  He looked down at the street below, full of people rushing by in their morning commute.  Very faintly, he heard a horn honking and a siren. He tried not to listen to Marisol’s questions and Scully’s answers.

 

“All set,” the nurse finally chirped.  “Your wife is in excellent health. No need to worry about a thing.  Just so you know, the doctor will probably kick you out in about an hour.  The coffee across the street is much better than the one downstairs.”

 

“Thanks for the tip,” Mulder said.

 

And then the nurse was gone and it was just the two of them again.  Mulder stayed by the window and shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“When do you think they’ll let you blow this popsicle stand?” he asked.

 

“Few days, maybe,” she answered.

 

He nodded.  “I can stay until you’re released.  Drive you back to DC. Or...if you don’t want me here, I can call your mother for you.”

 

“You don’t have to stay.”

 

He nodded again and pulled one hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck, which was suddenly aching.  His whole body was suddenly aching though, probably collateral damage from a broken heart. It took all his willpower to move his feet, but instead of heading to the door, he found himself next to her bed again.

 

“Try to get some rest,” he said, bending to touch his lips to her cheek.

 

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered.

 

“Neither do I,” he whispered back.

 

She tilted her head closer to his so her temple rested against his brow.  He closed his eyes and was still with her for a few tranquil moments before he brushed his nose along her cheek and then pulled back.  She kept her eyes on her lap.

 

“Obviously now really isn’t the time,” he said.  “But, maybe we should talk.”

 

“I imagine we probably should.”

 

“I’m going to go try the better coffee downstairs and see if I can extend the hotel I got another couple nights.  Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

 

She shook her head.  As he got up, this time she reached for his hand, grasping his fingers like he’d done when he first walked through the door.  Their thumbs met again over their knuckles and he pressed his firmly against hers. She pressed back.

 

The End

  
  



End file.
